Sentiment
by Jaela-chan
Summary: The most shocking question Bert could ever have asked changes Mary's life forever.
1. Introduction: Proposal

Mary had never been quite so shocked in all of her life. One gloved hand covered her open mouth, and her usual rigid posture seemed relatively unstable. She looked down at Bert as if to ask, "_What_ did you just say?" but found that she was quite beyond words.

--

It had begun that morning, when the two were out for a stroll. Mary had happened upon Bert and his chalk drawings soon after sunrise, and both agreed immediately that it was a marvelous day for a walk in the park.

It was early spring, and the frost had recently given way to young buds, sprouts, and blossoms. It seemed that every springtime in London, the flowers and trees were renewed to their splendor more vibrantly and luminously. Today, it was clearer than ever to see. The brilliance of the park was more than Mary and Bert could take in.

"Nothing like a morning stroll to greet the day, I always say," Bert commented, his eyes on the dewdrops that spotted the infantile leaves.

"I agree; there's no more proper way," Mary said.

"'S far's I'm concerned, today's a good a day as any," Bert said, half to himself.

"And might I ask what you're muttering about?" Mary inquired.

"Ya might," said Bert, looking around as if to evaluate his surroundings. "That's a lovely li'l bench right there, dontcha think?" He said, his eyes twinkling with delight and something almost like anticipation.

"You wouldn't be trying to change the subject, now would you?" Mary looked at Bert suspiciously.

"'Course not. You'll see. This is directly relevant to the subject at hand." He led Mary to the painted wooden bench. "If you'll have a seat, I think we'll do this nice and proper, eh?"

Mary was puzzled. "If you don't mind, I'd rather prefer to stand."

"No," Bert said, his jolly voice taking on a serious tone. "With all due respect, Mary, I think you ought to sit down for this."  
She shrugged. "If I must." She was just wondering at how silly this all seemed when Bert lowered himself to one knee.

"Right then," he said, and the world settled into slow motion.

"Mary Poppins, will you marry me?"

--

Author's Notes: Oh my! I wonder if you, as a reader, are as shocked as I am. I can't believe what I've just written! I think it's very exciting, personally. What do you think? In any case, I realize that this is a very short introduction, but I hope you'll understand that it had to be so. I knew how this first bit of the story had to begin, and how it had to end. I decided that drawing it out or adding more afterwards would only have detracted from the story. But don't worry; the next part is already in the works. I should have it up fairly soon, meaning within a week or so. Yes. I'll soon e explaining how all of this came about. In the meantime, please let me know what you think! Thanks in advance.


	2. Chapter 1: Childhood

"Happy birthday, Jane."

"Mary Poppins!" Jane exclaimed. "You came, you came!" The young girl bounced up on her toes in excitement.

"Why of course, Jane, why wouldn't I?" The lovely brunette stepped inside the Banks household and took a look around. The banister was tied up with ribbon, and a painted banner hung on the wall, accented with pink and yellow balloons.

"I've brought you something," Mary said, smiling and holding out a little white box tied with a yellow ribbon.

Jane opened it to reveal a silvery chain with a small porcelain star on it. She lifted it out of the box with one hand. "Oh, Mary Poppins, it's lovely! I'll put it on at once." Setting the box aside, Jane busied herself fastening the chain around her neck.

At that moment, Michael came running down the stairs at twice the normal pace. "I did the balloons! I did the balloons!" He said breathlessly.

"And are you bout of breath from blowing all of those up, or from flying down the stairs at dangerous speeds?" Mary inquired.

Michael laughed. "Both!"

"Well," said Mary, "In either case, you've done a lovely job with the balloons."

Michael grinned widely. "We're going to have cake," he said.

"Of _course_ we'll have cake," said Jane in exasperation, "it's my _birthday_."

"Now Jane, be kind to your brother." Mary patted her hair to make sure it was in place.

"I don't have to. It's my birthday." Jane crossed her arms.

"Indeed it is," Mary agreed, "but contrary to what you may believe, that does not give you the right to do whatsoever you may please. You're growing into a young lady, and ladies must be considerate."

Jane pouted a bit, but brightened when there was a knock at the door. "Maybe someone else has come to give me presents!" She ran to the door, her new powder blue dress flowing beautifully around her.

"Where are your parents?" Jane asked Michael as Jane went to answer the door.

"Mum's helping in the kitchen," Michael offered, but lowered his head as if embarrassed.

"And your father?"

"…Said… he said he couldn't get the whole day off, but he'll come home early this evening." His voice was blank and robotic. "Jane was upset."

"I see." Mary put a finger to her temple in thought, but could not ponder long as Jane came prancing back towards them.

"It's for you, Mary Poppins!" Her eyes were bright and full of excitement—so much so that it was hard to believe that she'd ever been upset as Michael suggested.

"What? What's for me?"

Jane giggled. "The door! There's someone here to see you!"

"And who might that be?" wondered Mary aloud as she strode swiftly to the front door.

"Good day, Mary," said Bert, peeking out from behind a magnificently colorful bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed, and rightly so. The flowers were so bright and fragrant that they hardly seemed real. "Sweet of you to drop these by. But did I hear correctly that you've come to see me as well?"

"That's right. But first things first. A little bird told me that someone's having a birthday today."

Jane appeared at Mary's side. "Bert! How did you know?!"  
The smiling man delicately placed the bouquet in Jane's arms. "Happy Birthday. I hope it's the best year yet."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be!" Jane declared. "That you so much!"

"No need to thank me, young lady."

Suddenly, something registered in Mary's mind. "Bert, did you say something about a bird?"

He tilted his head to one side. "No, I don't think I did."

"No, I'm sure you did. Just now."

He looked puzzled, but eventually it came to him. "Oh, right. 'A little bird told me.' Just an expression, right?" He winked.

"Bert…" she looked at him suspiciously. "If we might have word in private…"

"But of course. We could take a turn about the block I suppose."

"Well, I'm not sure if…" Mary looked to Jane, who was admiring her flowers.

"Oh!" Jane said. "You must go, Mary Poppins, you absolutely must. It's such a lovely day, and besides the party won't start until dinner's ready—"

"And the cake!" Michael chimed in.

"Yes, and the cake. I'm sure what Bert has to say to you is very important, so you really must go," Jane chattered on.

"Well, if it's alright with you, Jane, I see no reason not to."

All who were present smiled, except for Michael, who was quite intent in an attempt to snatch down on of the balloons tied to Jane's birthday banner.

Linking arms, Mary and Bert set out.

"Now, Bert," Mary said when they were quite out of range of Cherry Tree Lane, "do tell me what all this bird business is about. 'Just an expression' indeed!"

Bert chuckled. "He's come back, Mary. Good as new, too. You can't tell that the wing was ever broken."

Mary stopped, startled. "Not…not _him_, Bert, surely? The very one?"

"The very one."

"Oh, Bert! I'm so happy for you! But how can that be?"

"Well, Mary, would you describe me as unusual?"

Mary didn't know how to respond. "Well. You may be… generally atypical but… I wouldn't go so far as to say—"

"That's just it, Mary!" Bert said. "You're not the average person yourself, if ya don't mind my saying so. It only follows that those birds of ours wouldn't quite be run of the mill either, eh? They did come all this way in the first place, after all. Their kind doesn't live in London naturally, you know."

Just then, as if to confirm what Bert had been saying, the signature twittering sounded.

Overhead two small birds circled, and then landed, one each, on Mary's finger and Bert's shoulder. Bert's was bright yellow and nibbled affectionately on Bert's ear. Mary's was a more muted yellow, and sat still and pristine on Mary's outstretched finger.

"I still can't believe it, but you're right," Mary said.

"And there's one more surprise," Bert said with a wink.

"Of _course_ there would be more. Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Oh no, not at all. In fact, I think it might come in handy, given the occasion."

--

The nine-year-old brunette couldn't help herself. The boy standing with his shoulders slumped by the walkway looked so very upset that she just _had _to stop and see what might be so disconcerting.

"Is something the matter?"

But she needn't even have asked. At that moment the wind blew and it became very apparent that a colorful kite was stuck in the treetops, its long tail being the only part free to whip round in the wind, and the rest tangled so thoroughly that it looked to be a lost cause, sad as it was.

"Made it for my mum," the boy mumbled. "Wanted to try it out first. Make sure it worked."

"Well, that's no problem," the girl declared. "We just have to get it down. It doesn't look broken, just stuck."

"I tried to climb up, but the branches're too weak. Can't hold me."

"Then send someone else up," the girl said casually.

He looked puzzled. "But you're a girl. You can't climb in a dress."

She giggled. "Not me, silly." She shoved two fingers under her tongue and let out a shrill whistle.

The immediate response was the boy covering his ears and a small yellow bird coming to rest and the girl's head.

"That's no place for you," she said. "I've told you that you ought to land on my hand. But no matter; I have a job for you."

There was a chirp in reply. The small bird rose again into the air and flew to where the kite was stuck. The boy watched, enraptured, as the bird untangled the string in a series of flits and darts. When it was finished, the small yellow creature tried to pull at the kite from one corner, but it wouldn't budge very far.

"Oh dear," said the girl, "it's just too heavy for her. I'm sorry about your kite. We tried our very—oh!"

She was unable to finish, because at that moment a second bird came in a blur of color to take the opposite corner of the kite in its beak. Together, the two lifted the colorful toy and dropped it right into the arms of the stunned boy.

The first landed this time on the girl's extended fingers. The second made a few playful loops in the air, and then perched himself with poise on the boy's shoulder.

"Teamwork," the girl declared delightedly. "Thank you for calling him. Lila couldn't have managed it on her own."

"Calling him?" the boy was perplexed. "I haven't called anyone."

The girl shrugged. "Then I guess he came on his own accord. What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"Well, he's yours now! You ought to name him."

The boy thought for a moment. "Edmund," he decided.

And Edmund gave him a grateful nip on the ear.

--

"Come in handy? Do tell," said Mary, interested.

Bert rubbed at the back of his neck as if embarrassed. "Well, they didn't come back alone, to put it simply."

"They've… brought their young?" Mary asked to clarify.

Bert nodded, slightly red in the face.

"How many?"

"Just one."

Mary's eyes lit up in understanding.

"We were about her age, weren't we, Mary?"

She seemed pleased that he'd remembered. "Indeed we were. And we hadn't a clue who these two were." She petted her bird tenderly on the head with one finger.

"You can imagine, Mary… how I felt when I thought he was gone."

She nodded solemnly, looking Bert directly in the eyes. "Not just you. I thought—or rather, she thought—that she'd lost a very dear friend."

"So… I s'pose we ought to give Jane another present, eh? From the two of us."

Mary smiled in agreement.

--

Jane and Michael came up the stairs at a pace just below a run, giggling excitedly.

"This was the best birthday ever," Jane announced.

"I used to like chocolate," said Michael, "but now lemon is my favorite kind of cake."

"You've got lemon cake on your face, by the way," Jane said.

"No I haven't!" Michael swiped at his cheek with his sleeve.

But when the two walked into the room, it was immediately apparent that something had changed. Jane's bed had been moved aside to make room for a table, atop which sat a large and glamorous-looking silver cage.

"Look!" said Michael. "There's a letter, and it's got your name on it!"

Jane rushed to the table and unfolded the letter.

"What's it say?" Michael demanded.

Jane cleared her throat and read,

"_Dear Jane,_

_You've come a long way since we've known you, and it's time you gained a companion to make sure that you don't forget what you've learned, and at the same time remind you to stay young at heart. Open the window, whistle with all your might, then flip this note over and read the back._"

Jane looked up. "Alright then." She marched to the window then pulled it open. But then her face fell.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked.

"I can't whistle."

"Oh."

Jane looked down at the letter, and to her amazement, new words scrawled across the bottom as if being written by an invisible pen.

_If you don't know how to whistle, don't worry. Just put both your index fingers beneath your tongue and blow._

Filled with new confidence, Jane followed the written instructions.

She and Michael were equally surprised to hear a high, keen note sound from her mouth.

"You said you can't whistle!" Michael protested.

"I can't! Or I couldn't. I've just read how to do it, right here." She pointed, but before Michael could look, the siblings were distracted by a lofty twittering.

"Oh!" They exclaimed in unison.

A tiny yellow bird was perched on the sill, looking directly at Jane and chirping expectantly as if to say, _Yes? You called?_

Remembering what she had read, Jane flipped the note over and read the back.

"_This bird represents and embodies the spirit of your childhood. Many cannot hold onto their childlike hearts for long, but I hope you will be together for a long time to come. Please give her a name and care for her._

_Love, Mary and Bert._"

"Oh, isn't she just precious, Michael?"

"You've already gotten presents from them," Michael pointed out. "The flowers. And that thing you're wearing."

"Somehow," said Jane, "I think this is different."

She smiled gracefully and carried her new friend to the beautiful cage. "Welcome home," she said.

Michael went to put out the light, and before long, all three were sleeping.

--

Author's Notes: How exciting! I was finally able to post this! I've had it written for a while now, but it was a matter of getting to a computer for long enough to type it up… Now that that's done, I can finally breathe. So, the bird thing was an idea I had from the very beginning, and I hope I was able to express it properly. I'm afraid the whole thing might have been a bit unclear, so if you have any questions, please message or e-mail me about it and I'll be sure to clear it up in the next chapter. There's a bit more to the concept, anyway. Oh, I also thought I would mention that this chapter turned out to be twice as long as it looked on paper! I hope that's a good thing…? I tend to prefer longer chapters in others' stories, but in my own, I'm afraid everyone will lose interest if I ramble on too long. ;;; In any case, I'll get started on the next chapter right away and do my best to ensure that you won't have to wait so very long for it. If you have time, please kindly review and let me know what you thought. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 2: Common Manners & Tea for Two

_Author's Notes: Readers! Hello! This is new for me, writing at the beginning of a chapter. It feels so awkward that I may not make a habit of it. But I wanted to answer something that was asked in a review last time that I didn't answer in the actual chapter. It's about the yellow birds that rescued the kite from the tree, as well as the one Jane received as a birthday gift. They're called saffron finches, and they're quite charming. I was actually delighted that someone cared enough to ask about what sort of bird they were, so thank you! There's a lot more about the birds in this chapter, so I hope by the end, the rest of your questions will be answered as well. So yes, that's enough of my babbling for now. Enjoy the chapter, and I'll have a little note at the end, too._

--

Though he had forgotten about her for quite some time, there came a windy day when the boy was out with a kite again and recalled the girl and her bird, and he became quite desperate to see them both again. Running along the walk in the park, he most deliberately flew the kite directly into a tree.

He waited excitedly for several minutes, glancing around anxiously for the face he was just starting to remember—those bright eyes and high cheekbones framed by chestnut-colored locks. However, soon nearly fifteen minutes had passed and the boy found himself shifting his weight from one foot to another anxiously. There was no one but an uppity woman pushing a perambulator and a little old woman feeding ducks by the pond.

It occurred to the boy that maybe the girl had other things to do than to simply pop up whenever a person's kite was stuck. Didn't most people? But all the same, he had been quite sure that she would come.

Resigned, he let out some more slack on the kite string so he could sit down on the path. He thought of calling his own bird, Edmund, but recalled that before one bord had not been enough to free the kite, and why should this be any different?

Needless to say, as the sun passed across the sky, the boy grew quite bored. But what's more, he started to feel something itchy and cool in his chest. He did his best to ignore the thing that had settled itself inside him, but eventually he could no longer keep from acknowledging it. The thing that itched like a poorly knitted sweater was a beast most commonly known as loneliness.

Desperate to rid himself of the creature, the boy tugged at the kite string, but the tree tugged back, and its twiggy branches threatened to tear at the kite.

"Excuse me," said a vaguely familiar voice, "but do you need some help?"

The boy looked up hopefully, and it was just as he had suspected: the girl had returned with a little yellow bird on either shoulder.

"_He_ came looking for me. Made quite a fuss, I must say," she said, tilting her head to gesture to the more vibrant of the two birds.

"Oh good," the boy said, "you see I've gotten my kite stuck again. But now you're hear the birds can get it down again right quick." He began to look very cheerful as the itchy coldness disappeared, and he quickly scambled to his feet.

"The birds? Oh, well I don't see why that's necessary," the girl said. "Yours has already flown quite some way to collect me."

"But my kite…" he said.

"Yes, it's too bad you've got it stuck again. Most people learn to be careful after the first time, you know. But no matter; Here." The girl snapped her fingers and the kite floated to the ground gracefully without a tear in it at all.

The boy's eyes widened. "But how…?"

"Excuse me? How what?"

"How'd you get it down?"

The girl looked puzzled and almost a little exasperated. "What on earth do you mean? I just got it. That's all."

The boy meant to inquire further, but something in her eyes made him change his mind. "Thank you," he said.

"You're quite welcome. Now what was it you needed my help with?"

What strange things she said. Hadn't she just helped him? "It was the kite, that's all, and you've just done it," he said tentatively.

The girl shook her head. "That can't have been it. Like I said, people tend to learn about taking care with kites the first time around. And _he_ is still insisting I stay." Again, she angled her head towards the bird on her right shoulder, who chirped in agreement. "I'd ask him what I'm needed for, but he's babbling so fast, and with such a strong accent. I can't hardly make out a word of it."

Then it occurred to the boy. Of course she hadn't come because of the kite. He hadn't really needed her then. She had only come when…

"I was lonely," he blurted without thinking, and then blushed, wishing he could take back the words. He felt sure that she would sniff at him for making her come for something so petty, even if it was Edmund who'd technically been the one to go and fetch her. But all she said was,

"I thought as much. Right then." She offered her hand to him, and when he took it sheepishly, Edmund fluttered to his shoulder, and the two—or rather, the_ four_ of them—took a stroll about the park.

--

"What should the note say, do you suppose?" Mary said, brandishing a piece of paper and a fully loaded fountain pen seemingly out of nowhere.

She and Bert discussed it, smiling meaningfully at each other, and when it was finished Mary snapped her fingers swiftly three times—one to send the bird on its way, another to deliver a proper cage for Jane's bedside table, and a third to post the note. When that was finished, Mary turned to Bert.

"You do know that you've got some explaining to do now," Mary said in a low voice.

"I s'ppose—I'll need some help with the details, though," Bert said. He put two fingers to his lips and let out a high whistle.

The bird wasted no time in landing on a nearby tree branch, and twittered dutifully, looking wuite ready to recount a long and epic tale.

Bert's shoulders drooped a little and his eyelids moved a millimeter—something that only someone who knew him very well would notice. It so happened that Mary knew him better than anybody, so she looked at him worriedly. Bert did his best to straighten his shoulders and look lively. "Nothing to worry about, of course. I just wonder why he won't land on my shoulder anymore—but no matter, 'course, he's probably just a tad bit timid, still, eh? We haven't been together for so long, and all…" he laughed unconvincingly, and cleared his throat to quickly change that subject. "But ah—right then. The story."

--

Those strolls around the park became a regular occurrence once the boy learned the trick to it: when he needed the girl for something—anything at all, really, no matter how small—there she would be with her yellow twittering friend, who he learned to call Lila and who soon took on an almost motherly role towards Edmund, often telling him where to peck at the ground to find the fattest worms and when it was best manners to stop fussing and chirping.

A person's childhood is the beginning of their story, and everyone knows that without the beginning, any story would be a very confusing mess. This is why, even if a person lives to be two hundred, everyone's childhood makes up exactly half of their soul. This is not to say that children have only half a soul. Indeed, the other half is with everyone from birth, but watches from a distance during the early years so as to not overshadow the childhood half. This is simple good manners.

There was one family in London, however, whose elder soul halves were nearly always right beside them. They all thought this made them seem wise and classy, but it had quite the opposite effect. Anyone who wasn't completely naïve knew that it was bad manners to shun one's childhood and be in too much of a hurry to grow up. This is why, no matter how classy they themselves thought they were, every member of the family(even the daughters) worked as butchers.

The youngest son, Elliot, was out in the park one day, and sure enough, a large, grand owl flew along beside him, drawing far too much attention to the pair.

It was this afternoon that Elliot first saw the girl.

"Do you see her?" he asked the owl, stopping so suddenly that the bird he was addressing flew ahead and had to double back to answer him.

"Who, the girl just over there? Common type. Still inseperable from her Lesser Half, you see." The other half of Elliot's soul, a tiny chickadee, gave an offended chirp from a tree several meters away. Elliot's Bird of Childhood always watched over him from afar, which was, of course, backwards.

Elliot ignored the chickadee, whose name he could not even recall at the moment. "Seems a bit mature for a lesser half, don't she?"

The owl ruffled his feathers and flew closer to get a look at Lila, who was politely explaining about breadcrumb-eating ettiquette to Edmund. When he'd had a good look, he flew back to Elliot. "You may be right," he said, "but still the common type. Her Better Half is staying hidden, you see. Not nearly as class as us, of course, you see."

Elliot's brow furrowed. "Maybe I ought to tell her about the classy way of doing things, d'you think?"

"Why should you care so much as to do that?"

Elliot shrugged. "She's handsome, ain't she? I think maybe I ought to make her my wife one day."

The owl looked pleased, but the chickadee was taken aback. He knew full well that Elliot was still a child, and much to young to be talking about making anyone his wife. He was so upset that he decided to deliberately make trouble.

"That'll be quite a task, don't ya think?" the little bird said hastily, flying closer than he had in a very long time.

"What do you mean?" asked Elliot.

"Looks as though that boy's bird has already got it mapped out, don't ya think?" He flitted about very fast and put on quite show, trying his best to overshadow the grand-looking owl, who now bore a displeased expression. "Surely they're already planning to become husband and wife, those two, don't ya think?" The chickadee gasped for breath. Of course he knew this wasn't true. No one but the butcher's family thought so very much about marriage as children. He found himself spinning lies because he felt so very jealous—of the owl, for taking up all of Elliot's attention and time, and of the yellow bird for always getting to be so close to his boy. As the chickadee spun his lies, he spun a plan, too.

"Do you really think so?" Elliot asked, disappointed.

"You know," the owl began, but he was cut off.

"Oh yes, yes, I'm sure of it! But it's all that bird's idea, don't ya think? If he's gone, it'll never happen, don't ya think?"

Elliot began to nod enthusiastically. He might have been able to tell the chickadee was lying, except he hardly knew him at all.

"Ain't there probably some way to get rid of the bird?" Elliot addressed the owl, but it was the chickadee who answered again.

"Oh, yes. I just have to make him go far away for a very long time, don't ya think?" He was so excited now that he didn't even wait for Elliot's say-so; he flew right over to Edmund and began twittering loudly.

"Fine day for a race, don't ya think?"

Marry looked up hesitantly from the breadcrumbs. "E'nt it a l'il cold for that?"

"Oh, it doesn't have to be!"

Lila looked curiously at the chickadee, but flew to perch on her girl's hand for the time being. She knew her manners; it is very impolite to eavesdrop on a conversation that you are not a part of.

"Where're ya racin' to?" asked Edmund.

"Arabia, don't ya think? Or South America? So many fine places; better make it all the way around the world, don't ya think?"

"A race 'round the world?" Edmund perked up. "That sounds mighty excitin'. Are ya goin' by yerself?"

"Surely not," the chickadee said. "I can't race myself, don't ya think?"

"'Course not; can't argue with that," Edmund agreed.

The girl and the boy and little Lila were so distracted that they heard none of this, and didn't see the two line up behind a crack in the sidewalk and fly off as fast as their little wings would take them.

--

After that, the boy did not see the girl for a very long time. Even when he felt he needed her very much, there was no one to go fetch her.

When she did happen across him by pure coincidence one Thursday afternoon, the boy was no longer a boy but a man rubbing chalk against the sidewalk with a hat pulled down low so that his face was in shadow. And the girl was now a fine lady whose telltale chestnut curls were mostly covered by her own hat, so neither recognized the other.

Lila had her suspicions, but did not say anything for fear she might be wrong. Edmund was nowhere to be found, so she couldn't be sure. Needless to say, the other half of the girl's(or, really, the lady's) soul had never been close enough to get to know him, so even though she was very close now, there was no way she could tell who the man was.

All the same, sometimes Fate steps in to keep two people from passing one another by.

The lady stopped to look at the man's sidewalk drawings, admiring one landscape of a flowery meadow in particular. The man drew off his hat and put it on the sidewalk, and the two got to talking. When the lady was finished looking, she dropped a few coins into the man's hat.

She stopped to ponder how much business the man got for his fine sidewalk drawings, which gave him just enough time to count out the coins he had collected.

"Well will you look at that," he said. "It looks like I've got just enough money now for tea for two."

--

When Bert was finished recounting the tale(with Edmund's help, of course), he took in a deep breath and shuffled his feet.

"Oh, Bert," Mary said, and suddenly she was so overcome with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia and relief and joy that she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. "I never did trust the butcher's family, you know. You can't be too sure about the time who pays no mind to common manners."

Bert was shocked at the sudden display of emotion, but awkwardly hugged Mary in return, patting her back softly. "He got so tired that he 'ad to rest in the Amazon, you see," he said. "Afterwards he was quite lost, I s'ppose."

"Oh, but now he's back and… and it all makes sense and… Oh, Bert, I really am so happy. I feel as if I've just gotten back a long lost friend."

"I was always here," Bert said. "I just wasn't quite whole."

Even Edmund, who had been a bit standoffish ever since his return, could no longer contain himself in the joy of the moment. He landed hesitantly on Bert's shoulder, and found it to be unexpectedly comfortable.

When Mary at last drew back, she noticed how low the sun had fallen in the sky. "Oh no. The children. I should be getting back."

"No worries," said Bert. "Tomorrow's Thursday."

Mary grinned. "A Third Thurday, isn't it?" She noticed that her hands were still resting on Bert's shoulders, and for several seconds she was indecisive, but then she made up her mind and leaned forward to kiss her friend lightly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

And she left gracefully and swiftly to be in time to tuck in the children.

--

_Author's Notes: There are so many things I don't like about the way I wrote this chapter. Is that a bad way to start? Haha... ah well. I feel like my writing style changed completely for this chapter. Also, there are some things I wasn't able to mention/make very clear. First, Mary and Bert in the "present time" are in full contact with their Birds of Adulthood on a regular basis. I haven't been able to write about wither of them. I hope I get a chance to before the end of this story. Second, I'm not sure if I made it clear that Mary and Bert meet for tea every third Thursday. But yeah, they have every single third Thursday since they met again when they were older. Third, I think it's VERY important to mention that Mary and Bert gradually grew to realize that they were the two who had met as children. So at the point of the previous chapter, they're both fully aware of it, but have never really discussed it. I tried writing that in but wasn't able to convey it properly at all, so I finally just decided to write it here. Oh my. So many disasters while writing this chapter... including me confusing the names of Bert's Bird of Childhood and Bird of Adulthood. I was writing the wrong name for three pages before I realized it. On a happier note, I finally wrote a chapter of decent length! So that's good... right? Hopefully the next chapter will be a big success. Please take a moment to review, if you will. See you next time!_


	4. Chapter 3: Another Sort of Adventure

Author's Notes: This is my second time writing at the beginning of a chapter. It still feels awkward! But I wanted to say that this chapter is dedicated to a dear friend, known here as Elizabeth Lakecrest. I was going to dedicated the last chapter to her, but it came out so poorly that I rather felt I'd be insulting her if I did. But ah... yes. This is for you, darling.

--

Curious children can only take so much mystery before they feel as though they might burst. There is no clear evidence indicating that any child has indeed burst from being surrounded by too much unknown, but Michael, for one, wasn't going to take his chances.

"Have you noticed she's always away on Thursdays, Jane?" he asked his sister, peering out the window suspiciously as Mary Poppins strode down the lane with a definite sense of purpose to her.

"Yes," said Jane, "every third Thursday. I've been counting. She leaves at two-ten and arrives home at four-fifty."

Michael looked around at her, astonished, but Jane was too busy folding a blanket neatly in her doll cradle to take notice of his surprise.

"Don't you wonder where she goes, too?" asked Michael.

Jane frowned and turned the blanket the other way, folding it longways one more time. "I've always wondered more about why she always leaves and returns precisely at the same time. But I suppose she _is_ very precise, after all." The blanket just would not fit as Jane wished. She tilted her head to the side and frowned again.

"You don't ever wonder about where she gets off to? She's Mary Poppins, after all. It must be someplace really amazing. Doesn't it make you curious?"

Jane tried folding the corners under, and that seemed to work. She smiled and looked up. "Not really. Perhaps she goes out for tea."

"Out for tea?" Michael frowned. "But that's so ordinary."

Jane shrugged. "What else does a person go out to at two-ten, and return from at four-fifty?"

--

Michael practically ran down the garden path, fearing that he'd be caught and dragged back into the house at the last moment. Jane had promised to cover for him, but pronounced the adventure "silly" and refused to come along. _All the better,_ thought Michael darkly, _she'd only get in the way anyhow._

Luckily, when he turned off the lane, Mary Poppins was still in sight. He alternated between running to keep up with her, and strolling along nonchalantly when he worried that someone might find a running boy suspicious and escort him back home.

Whenever he could, Michael ducked behind trees and parked cars in case Mary were to glance back and catch him following. He knew she'd be positively furious to catch him at something so sneaky and rude.

Mary did not glance back, however, and though Michael could not tell for sure from such a distance, he was almost certain she was whistling as she made her way towards the park.

The park? Michael puzzled over it. What could she do there that would be so fascinating? But Mary Poppins stopped before she reached the park. She stooped down a little in the middle of the sidewalk and seemed to be staring down at the pavement. It was then that Michael realized that he'd been so focused on Mary Poppins that he hadn't noticed the other figure, down on his knees on the pavement.

This could only be Bert, hard at work on his chalk drawings.

"Yes!" said Michael delightedly. "This will be it. Mary Poppins will go into the chalk drawings again!"

Michael watched as Bert picked up his hat off the pavement and seemed to fish around in it for several moments. Then he withdrew his hand and smiled at Mary Poppins, who at once offered her arm. Instead of walking into the center of one of the drawings, however, the two simply strolled off down the sidewalk.

"So it wasn't the drawings after all," Michael said, but was not discouraged. "It must be some brand new adventure, and she's decided to take Bert along for company."

He followed them away from the park, still half-running and half-sneaking along, ducking behind things whenever he could.

Ultimately, the two stopped in front of a quaint-looking little shop that didn't seem of much consequence, but upon arriving there Mary and Bert looked at each other with almost childishly delighted faces, and made their way inside, with arms still linked. As they entered, Michael heard a tiny tinkling from a bell hung up in the doorframe.

Taking great care to hide himself behind a woman and her children out doing the shopping, Michael walked past the shop to take a look inside.

Mary Poppins and Bert were sitting down to a tea with sandwiches and biscuits and little jam cakes. When Michael had had his look, he circled back and to the other side of the road, then began to walk briskly with his face down and arms crossed back in the way he had come.

So it really _had_ been just tea. What a disappointment. It didn't seem right of Mary Poppins to lead him out all this way for nothing, even if she didn't know she was doing it.

At that moment, a stray cat ran across Michael's path and scurried back behind him, rubbing her nose against the back of his leg before taking off in the other direction. Michael looked up for a moment and saw that the little orange-striped kitten was not a stray at all, for she wore a purple collar high on her neck, and hung from it was a heart-shaped tag and a little gold bell.

The kitten seemed to notice that she was being watched, because she stopped in her tracks and turned her head cautiously.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Michael asked her accusingly.

The cat narrowed her eyes as if to say, "I might ask the same question." Then she turned her head right back around and went on her way again.

Michael made a split-second decision. It was so quick that he didn't even realize he was thinking it, but Michael was not ready to go home yet. Mary Poppins hadn't had any adventure at all, so he resolved to have one of his own to make up for it. He pivoted swiftly on one foot and started off in the opposite direction, now following the kitten.

There were times when she stopped to check street signs—or so it seemed, as she glanced up at them—but for the most part the kitten seemed very purposeful in knowing where to turn and when to cross the street.

At first Michael felt very excited—his adrenaline rushed up to his ears the way it had when he first set out after Mary Poppins. But after a time he realized his new target's destination must be someplace very, very far away, because they had been walking for a good forty minutes now and she showed no sign of stopping, nor of even slowing down for that matter. Discouraged, Michael glanced around for a sign that might tell him where he was. He hadn't been paying much attention previously.

Seeing no helpful clues, he made up his mind to continue following the cat. Maybe she would eventually lead them back to where he started.

There was only one problem. When Michael looked back ahead, the cat had gone.

He ran forward to look around the corners, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Cat?" he called tentatively, but received no response.

Disappointed for the second time today, Michael crossed his arms once again and began heading back the opposite way, eyes on the ground before him. He was very lost now and he knew it, so what was the use of reminding himself by looking at the alien scenery?

Michael felt very angry at the cat and at Mary Poppins, but most of all at himself. He hadn't paid enough attention to where he was, and when he finally did wonder about his surroundings, it caused him to miss out on his adventure entirely. Now it was surely getting late in the afternoon, and he'd have no time to do anything at all fun. Besides, if he didn't find his way back on time, he'd be scolded.

"This could end up being the most disappointing day of my life," me mused miserably.

As he trudged blindly forward, Michael imagined that he was never able to find his way back home. He imagined that the cat would come and find him again, and they would roam the streets together forever. He would forget to speak English and only speak in cat-language, and all the people would call him the Wild Cat-Boy and be afraid of him.

His daydreams were interrupted when he bumped into something quite suddenly. He staggered back, and looked up into the face of Bert.

"Why, Michael!" Bert exclaimed, putting a hand on the child's shoulder to right him. "Wot're you doing out here—are the others with ya?" He looked around expectantly.

"N…No," Michael said slowly. "I'm by myself."

Bert looked a little taken aback. "Why?"

Michael lowered his eyes again. He'd seen a lot of the pavement and his own shoes today. "It's Mary Poppins's day off and… and well, I thought… I wanted to have an adventure." He couldn't admit that he'd followed the both of them. It was like spying, and seemed naughty. He felt sure that if he was found out that he'd be punished for that as well.

"Golly, I'd say ya must've had one!" Bert said, amused.

"Not really. Not the sort I wanted, anyhow."

"Welp, tomorrow's another day—never a bad day for an adventure, y'know."

Bert was so cheery that Michael looked up at him and could almost return the jovial smile he saw.

"I'll take ya back home, eh?"

Michael nodded, and the two set out on the last leg of the day's long journey.

"I'll be in trouble at home," Michael said, as much to make conversation as to get the sorry off his chest.

"Why's that?"

"I went out without permission. And I'm sure I'll be late getting home."

"I'll get you back in a jiffy—don't you worry," said Bert, "and you ought not to have too much trouble with Mary Poppins—she's in a good mood you see. Always is on 'er days off."

This seemed to ring true to Michael, but he was puzzled at the bashful way in which Bert said it, as if he were shyly admitting an achievement he was proud of.

"I don't know why just going out to tea puts her in a good mood," Michael said, but then started, embarrassed, as he realized he'd just confessed that he knew what they'd been up to.

Bert seemed not to notice, though, or at least not to care. He laughed lightly. "You might not just yet. Say, Michael… 'ave you ever met someone you fancied?"

"Fancied?" Michael wrinkled his nose. The question had a funny feel to it, like the smell of vinegar.

Bert nodded. "Sometimes a person can feel like somebody's taken a star out of the sky and put it right inside your chest for ya," he said. "'Ave you ever felt that way before?"

Michael shook his head quickly back and forth. "No. Why?" He frowned, but looked curious.

Bert folded his arms back behind him, placing his plams against the back of his head. He seemed to be contemplating what to say next.

Michael urged him on, one half of him wanting to abandon the topic and never speak of it again, the other half dying to know more. "You do, then? You have someone you… you fancy?"

Bert smiled. "You could say that." He gave a satisfied chuckle.

"Is it… Mary Poppins?" Michael continued.

"Yeah. Yes it is." He stopped walking, dropped his hands to his sides, and turned to face Michael, looking him directly in the eyes. "Our secret: one man to another, yeah?"

Michael's eyes widened, and he nodded solemnly. He knew he'd been entrusted with something big and important.

"Someday, Michael, when you've got a star in your heart—that's when you'll know why just going out to tea is an adventure."

--

When Michael arrived home, he was surprised that Jane was eager to know all that had happened. He refused flatly, saying she ought to have come herself if she wanted to know.

He was several minutes late, but was hardly scolded, and was not sent to bed without supper. Mary Poppins _was_ in a good mood, indeed.

Michael rather wondered whether Bert had returned the favor and put a star into Mary Poppins's heart, too, because two Thursdays later he overheard her insisting to Mrs. Banks that she would really need to take every _second_ Thursaday off from now on.

--

Author's Notes: Another chapter complete. I tried to get it finished a little faster this time, because I owe it to all of you, and because my excitement for this story is growing. Every word I type gets me close to the ending I've already got written, waiting patiently in my hard-drive. Anyhow, what did you think? The purpose of this chapter was entirely for Bert and Michael to have their "Grown-Up Conversation," so for the rest I followed the book pretty closely(as far as Mary's whereabouts on her days off and whatnot, anyway). Maybe it was working with that foundation as a guide that made this chapter much stronger and more well-organized than the last. I hope I can continue to write as solidly or more so until the end. Please look forward to the next chapter, and take a moment to review if you get the chance! Thanks!


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